


Requiem for a Bumblebee

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul has an unexpected run-in</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem for a Bumblebee

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #17 under the pen name Gillian Holt.

_"This is definitely a need to know situation…"_

 

Dr. Suzanne McCullough sat on the rear porch of the Cottage, sipping on a cup of Norton's special brew and enjoying the peaceful quiet of early morning.  It was going to be an absolutely beautiful spring day, and the thought of spending it in her basement lab, developing a bacteria capable of destroying an alien life-form threatening to take over the Earth was a little depressing, to say the least.

Refusing to think about the war she and her companions fought on such a glorious morning, she listened to the various bird songs and sighed.  This was one of her favorite times of the day.  It was her private time.  Blackwood Project computer expert, Norton Drake, was checking his Cray supercomputer before coming up for breakfast.  Her daughter, Debi, was still sleeping.  Mrs. Pennyworth was in the kitchen, putting together another of her marvelous meals while Mr. Kensington watched and offered advice that she'd ignore.  The Project's leader, Harrison Blackwood, would be in the shower, getting ready for another day and trying to find a way to stop the Mor'taxan invaders.  And their security chief, Lieutenant Colonel Paul Ironhorse, was out on his morning run, leaving Suzanne all alone on the terrace.

Glancing at her watch, the microbiologist knew the Colonel would be back soon. She frowned.  In fact, he should have completed the six-mile route already, unless he had slowed tremendously from his usual pace.

She let her gaze travel over as much of the property's twenty-five acres as she could see, searching for the man.

Maybe he'd stopped at the coach house to meet with the Omega Squad.  The elite military unit was more than their security and front-line force against the aliens.  Many of the soldiers had grown into friends, and she knew the Colonel enjoyed the time he spent in their company.  Freed from only playing the role of their military commander, Paul was able to treat the men and women like the highly trained, unique collection of human beings that they were.

Suzanne smiled to herself.  Colonel Ironhorse remained something of a puzzle for the scientist.  _If he'd just let that tough military man facade fall away more often, he'd be, well, okay, he wouldn't be_ our _Colonel_.  She sighed.

She had grown to like the man, stiff-upper-lip-spit-and-polish-stoic that he was.  If he suddenly went sentimental and emotional on them, she wouldn't have the slightest idea how to respond.

"I'd probably think he'd been taken over by an alien," she commented softly to herself.

Her attention returning to the newspaper, she lifted the coffee cup to her lips, taking a sip as a heart-stopping cry rent the quiet, causing her to spray the liquid all over the page.

"What in the world?"

She listened, waiting to see if the sound brought any of Omega Squad to investigate.  But the coach house they used as their barracks remained quiet.

Suzanne set the cup down and stood.  Maybe she should go get the revolver Ironhorse made each of them keep in their rooms… just in case.

 _Think, Suzanne_ , she commanded.

A minute later, still unconvinced that they were under attack, Suzanne heard a very human grumble coming from the same direction as the cry.  Curiosity getting the better of her good judgement, she stepped off the porch and headed for the source of the sound.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Colonel Ironhorse pressed his lips together and forced himself to stand.  Looking over his shoulder, he spotted the attacking enemy from the corner of his eye.  Using a fingertip, he deftly flicked the intruder off the back of his thigh.  The small honeybee arched over a nearby bush, its life spent in the defense of its flower – which the Colonel had thoughtlessly smashed when he flopped down to stretch after his run.

Ironhorse knew the stinger was still in the back of his leg, lancing him up high near the part of his anatomy that attracted too much attention in mixed company.  Reaching back, he pulled the sweatpants away from the injury to keep the soft material from rubbing across the biological splinter.

"Colonel?  Was that you?"

The man's head snapped up, his black eyes widening when he saw Dr. McCullough standing nearby, her eyes filled with concern.  _Now you've done it, Ironhorse.  You've alerted a female_.

"It's nothing, Doctor," he lied smoothly.  "Just a little martial arts exercise.  Nothing to be concerned about."

"Oh?" she said, wondering what was wrong with the back of leg.  "Did you hurt yourself doing, uh, martial arts?"

 _How do they do it?  They're like a thirsty animals smelling out a waterhole.  Women simply possess an uncanny ability to recognize pain_ , he lamented silently.  "I'm _fine_ , Suzanne," he said aloud.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to hit the showers."

He took a step forward, the motion working the stinger in deeper.  He froze, his eyes widening and his breath automatically sucking in with a hiss.

"Colonel, you _did_ hurt yourself.  What is it?  A pulled groin muscle?" she asked, noting the way he was standing.

He blushed.  Groin, indeed!  "It's fine, Doctor," he snapped, taking a step back.

"Look, Paul, if nothing's wrong, why are you holding your leg like that?"

The colonel's hand immediately came forward.  "That, Doctor, is need to know."

He knew his usual dodge wasn't going to work – she had the "angel of mercy" look on her face – but he had to give it a try.  She was female, and the location of the insect's attack was in a less than dignified location.  He had to find a way past her and into the house as quickly as possible.  The others would be up and around soon.

Ironhorse gritted his teeth and started forward, managing three steps before slowing down, his leg going stiff in an attempt to avoid rubbing the fabric of the jogging sweats along the end of the barb.

"That does it," Suzanne said, jogging forward, then stepping in front of him.  She pressed a finger firmly against the center of his chest.  "Paul, you're not getting past me until I hear exactly what the problem is."

Ironhorse's face turned scarlet as he glared at the scientist, hoping the sheer power of the look would move her aside like it did the members of the Omega Squad.

Suzanne was not impressed.

He sighed.  "There's nothing wrong with me.  I simply had an… encounter with a bee."

"You were stung?" she translated.

"Yes, Doctor, I was stung.  Now, if you'd be so kind as to let me pass so I can get a shower, and—"

"Is the stinger still in?"

Ironhorse closed his eyes for a second, willing himself not to yell.  "Yes, it is.  Now, if you'd—?"

"Paul, we have to get that out.  Come down to the lab.  I have some tweezers there that should do the trick."

"Thank you, Suzanne, but if I need your help, I'll call you.  I'm sure I can take a—"

"It's in the back of your leg, isn't it?"

He nodded automatically.

"And just how do you propose to get it out?  Unless of course you're 'Plastic Man.'"

Ironhorse ground his teeth together tighter.  _You never should've admitted to a location.  Tactical error on your part, mister_.  "Doctor—"

"Paul, for goodness sakes, I can treat a bee sting.  Besides, it should be cleaned and a little baking soda put on it to draw the poison out."

The black eyes narrowed to slits.  "Thank you, but—"

"Paul, if you _don't_ let me help, I'll tell Harrison what's going on.  I'm sure he'll—"

"Suzanne," Ironhorse interrupted, his hands coming up in a gesture of surrender. "Did you say you had tweezers in your lab?"

"That's what I thought," she said, a smug smile on her face.  "You're not allergic to bees, are you?"

"Not that I know of," he muttered, trailing after her, limping.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Ironhorse thanked whatever powers were working on his behalf when he stepped out of the elevator and found Norton already absent from his terminal.

Suzanne headed straight for her lab, calling over her shoulder, "In here, Colonel. This won't take long."

Digging around in a drawer of equipment, she fished out a pair of long, thin tweezers.  Taking them to the sink, she poured some sterile ethanol over them, then looked at the soldier, who was waiting nervously in the doorway to the lab.

"What?" he asked when her expression registered impatience.

"If I'm going to get that stinger out, you're going to have to get in here and get out of those sweats."

"Now, see here, Doctor, I—"

She wagged the tweezers at him.  "Must I carry through on my threat?"

Ironhorse's jaw muscles twitched.  She was right, of course. There was no way to extricate the offending insect weapon until he shed the baggy garment.  But the very notion of stripping in front of a woman was enough to turn his ears bright red.  Thankfully, Suzanne refrained from commenting on that fact.

"If you don't mind, Doctor," Ironhorse said, his voice a highly controlled monotone as he motioned to her to turn around.

Suzanne smiled indulgently and turned her back, saying, "Now, Paul, I was an EMT, remember?"

"Yes, I'm well aware of your background, Doctor," he said, smug in the fact that he knew a great deal more about Suzanne's past than she knew about his.  But he regretted the comment instantly.

"Good, then you know I'll try and make this as painless as possible."

"I appreciate that, Suzanne," he said sincerely. 

Deciding he'd had enough time to take off a pair of sweats, and not trusting him not to bolt on her, Suzanne turned around to find a very red Ironhorse backed up against the counter of the lab, holding the sweats in front of him.  He looked decidedly uncomfortable and embarrassed.  _And he's cute when he's embarrassed_.

Feeling a small grin begin to twist her lips, she ran her fingers over her mouth and said, "Uh, Paul, you need to turn around."

His cheeks reached an amazing shade of crimson, Ironhorse turned stiffly, taking up an anything but at-ease stance, his back to her.  She stepped forward, then paused. One hand traveled to her chin, and she stroked her finger across her lower jaw thoughtfully while she studied the two halves of the perfectly shaped _gluteas maximus_ tucked snugly into white BVDs.

 _Why was I expecting olive drab boxer shorts?  I wonder why I've never noticed before now.  I'm definitely getting out of practice_.

Ironhorse cleared his throat.  "Is there a problem, Doctor?"

"Oh no, no problem at all," she replied with a near sigh.  Stepping forward, she placed a hand on the sweat-shirt-covered shoulder and pressed.  "Bend over, Colonel.  It looks like it's wedged in there sort of tight."

With a groan she wasn't sure was elicited from the sting or the embarrassment, Ironhorse leaned forward, resting his elbows on the countertop.  "Can we please just get this over with?"

"Certainly," she said, studying the swollen red welt.  "Hmm…"

"What?"

"The swelling's still spreading."  Probing carefully with her fingers, Suzanne located the stinger, then, with a deft move, she yanked it free with the tweezers.

The Colonel came up on his toes.  "Ahhhhaughh," he gurgled-groaned.

"I'm going to put—"

"If you've removed the stinger, that will be more than sufficient, Doctor."  Ironhorse stepped away, dropping the sweats to hide behind them again.  "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Suzanne let him reach the elevator before she said, "Paul, don't you think you should put those back on?  Just in case Debi or Mrs. Pennyworth happens to—?"

The scalding glare silenced her, and he pulled the pants on, only slowing as he eased them over the injury.

"Colonel?"

He looked up at the microbiologist.

She grinned.  It was wonderful to see she that could actually get under that oh-so-perfectly polished mask.  "I just wanted to ask you a question before you leave."

"And what would that be?"

"Why do you wear BVDs?"

"Excuse me?" he asked, his voice rising.

"I mean, I, uh, expected to see olive drab boxers."

Ironhorse's dumbfounded look made her giggle.

One, then the other black eyebrow arched slowly.  "Doctor, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go marshal what's left of my dignity before breakfast."  The elevator opened.  "And, Suzanne.  I expect you to maintain the patient/doctor confidence.  This is definitely need to know, and no one else needs to know.  Understood?"

"Yes, sir, Colonel, sir," she said, giving him a playful salute.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Ironhorse walked to the kitchen without a sign to give away the injury that Suzanne knew must be hurting him.  She had to admire the man's stubborn determination.

She met his black gaze and gave him her best "I-can-keep-a-secret" smile.

He nodded slightly and sat down.

"Good morning, Colonel."

Ironhorse looked up to find Harrison joining them, a smile on his face.  "Doctor," he replied with a nod.

"I was looking for you and Suzanne earlier, but I couldn't find you."  When neither offered an explanation, Harrison's eyes narrowed with curiosity.  "Is there something going on here I should know about?"

Ironhorse stared into his coffee, his cheeks going red.

"Colonel?"

Ironhorse looked up, the ultimate soldier-mask falling into place on his face.  "That, Doctor, is none of your damned business, but the answer is no, there's nothing going on that you should know about."  With a look that stated clearly that the conversation was over, he reached out and took a piece of toast, biting into it, determined to ignore the man.

Norton chuckled softly, exchanging glances with Suzanne, who was enjoying the uncomfortable look on the Colonel's face as much as the others.  She shrugged.

Ironhorse reached for his coffee.

"Well, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot to do this morning."  She stood, and looking back over her shoulder, added.  "I'm just as busy as a bee these days."

The Colonel choked on the dark brown liquid, barely managing not to spray it across the table.  Harrison and Norton stared at the Special Forces officer, trying to decipher the clues.

Ironhorse set the cup aside and glared at the microbiologist.  "If you'll please excuse me," he said, his appetite disappearing.

Suzanne watched Paul stride from the room, then giggled softly to herself and exited, leaving the other two men alone.

Harrison stared at the nearly empty table, then asked, "Norton, do you have any idea what that was all about?"

"Not a clue, Doc, but I wish I did."

"Me, too."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Suzanne looked up from the microscope when her daughter wandered in.  "Mom?"

"What can I do for you, Chicken?"

"Norton and Harrison wanted you to come upstairs for a minute."

"Why?"

"I don't know, exactly.  But I think it has something to do with the Colonel."

Suzanne frowned, wondering what was going on, but she followed her daughter to the elevator.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Suzanne," Harrison said when she and Debi joined them on the patio.  In the distance a soft "thump" echoed through the trees around the lake, sounding like the distant ring of someone chopping wood.  "Is there something—?  Is Paul—?"  He scowled.  "What's wrong with the Colonel?"

"I don't know what you mean," she said, genuinely confused.

"What's he doing?" Debi asked.

"We don't know," Norton said.  "He left about fifteen minutes ago, dressed in camouflage fatigues and armed."

"You don't think—?"  Suzanne stopped short, unable to ask the question with Debi present.

Harrison heard the unfinished concern.  "I don't think so.  Omega hasn't been activated."

"Did you go ask him?" Debi questioned.

Norton and Harrison exchanged guilty looks.  "Uh, no, Debi," the black man explained.  "I guess maybe we should have."

"I'll go ask," Debi said, disappearing off the porch before any of them could stop her.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The Colonel concentrated, gauging speed and wind resistance.  He took a deep breath, drew the tomahawk back and threw it.  The custom-made weapon sank into the trunk of a nearby maple.  Stalking up to the tree, he inspected the edge of the blade carefully.

Nothing.

He scowled and yanked the blade free.

"Colonel?"

The man spun.  "Debi, what're you doing out here?"

"I came to see what you're doing," she said truthfully.

He blushed slightly.  "I'm, uh, hunting."

"Hunting?" the girl repeated.  "What?"

The absurdity of what he was doing made him blush.  "Uh, bees, Debi."

"You're hunting bees?"

"Yes."

"With that?" she asked, nodding at the traditional weapon of the Colonel's Cherokee ancestors.

He nodded.

"Did you get any?"

"Not yet," he replied with conviction.

The girl cocked her head to one side.  "Why are you hunting bees?"

An approaching buzz stopped short any explanation.  The colonel scanned the air until he found the source.  A very large, very black bumblebee with a bright yellow band around its abdomen was winging its way toward them, totally unaware of the danger.

"Wow!" Debi exclaimed.  "Harrison told me those aren't even supposed to be able to fly.  They're too heavy, but they don't know that so they can."

The Colonel hardly heard the words as he watched the approaching enemy.  Vengeance sang in his mind.  He raised the weapon.

"Colonel?" Debi asked, realizing the insect was about to meet a violent end.

Ironhorse's calculations were perfect.  He let fly with the tomahawk, catching the bumblebee and impaling it against the trunk of a nearby maple.

"Oh, gross!" the girl exclaimed.

The creature continued to buzz noisily.

"What's going on?" Harrison asked as he and Suzanne emerged from the trees.

"The colonel's hunting bees.  He just killed a bumblebee!"  Debi ran over to join her mother.  "It's gross!"

"I'm sure it is, honey," Suzanne said, barely able to contain her laughter.

Harrison's brow wrinkled.  "Hunting bees, Colonel?"

Ironhorse ignored them all, walking over to stare at the insect.  He was sure it was staring back, contemplating a sneak attack of its own.  Pulling the tomahawk free, he watched it fall to the grass where it continued to buzz in spastic fits and starts.

"It's hurt," Debi said.  "Can you help it, Mom?"

Suzanne tried to look serious as she replied, "No, I'm afraid not."

"Colonel," Harrison said, "I really don't see why you should be taking your frustrations out on the local wildlife."

"Yeah," Debi agreed.

A decidedly guilty expression had settled on the Colonel's face.  The large bumblebee wasn't going down without a fight, and the longer it continued to struggle against the inevitable, the more embarrassed Ironhorse grew.

"Look, I have to get back to the lab," Suzanne said, trying very hard not to laugh as the bee launched into another bout of buzzing.  She was able to hold it for three steps, then her laughter echoed back to the others.

Ironhorse scowled and contemplated putting the thing out of his misery.

"Colonel, is there something you'd like to talk to me about?" Harrison asked.

"No!" the Colonel yelled.  He took a deep breath.  "It's nothing.  If you'll take Debi back to the Cottage, I'll, uh, take care of this little mess."

Blackwood looked down at the girl, who was watching the bug with much the same look Suzanne had used on Ironhorse.

"Come on, Debi," Harrison told her.  "If the Colonel wants to massacre poor innocent bumblebees, we'll leave him to it."

"Gross," she reiterated.

"For sure," the astrophysicist agreed.

Ironhorse watched them go, feeling like he'd been caught drowning puppies.  He looked at the insect.  It buzzed.

"Gross," he admitted.

It buzzed again.


End file.
